Want Me (Extracurricular Activities, #1)

by Neve Wilder

He’d initially muttered a “Shit man, sorry” and started to back away, but his eyes lingered, sketching a quick path from my face to my crotch. I had one leg up on a little coffee table and had slouched low on the couch to get to my ass, so there was plenty for him to look at, but still, he’d seemed mostly unruffled. I was the one who came apart.

He occasionally came out with all of us, but I didn’t know a lot about him beyond that he was majoring in structural engineering. And currently minoring in confusing my dick.

“You don’t need me to dumb it down for you. You’re not an idiot, frat boy.” “I can’t tell if that was a compliment or an insult, or some weird combination of both.”

He shrugged. “Whatever. But really, no need to be awkward. Honestly, at the risk of having you go full bro jock on me, it was pretty fucking hot.”

I got lost for a few seconds, watching him stroke himself, hand gliding from root to tip, twisting a bit over the head, foreskin shifting and rubbing. I’d bet it felt fucking good. First time I’d ever had foreskin envy in my life.

I lifted one leg up and then the other, exposing my ass, and was about to crack some dumb joke about feeling like a girl going to a gynecologist but yelped out instead as his tongue hit my hole in a rush of velvety heat.

“I thought this was about experimentation.” “It was about getting off. In an experimental way. Not Eric’s hour to fuck mercilessly with the ‘frat boy.’”

Things had suddenly gotten very interesting, and the more I thought about the night, the more I thought it was less experiment than beginning.

God, he was hot. Dirty hot. Filthy hot. The kind of hot I couldn’t even dream up in my own fantasies.

“I got you, Sanders, relax.” Easy to say, hard to do when I was ready to jump out of my own skin—both from what he was doing to me and from the erotic thrill of getting off with him in the library.

He had me plugged on both ends, totally at his mercy, and I could do nothing but take his cock in my ass and drool on his fingers.

Was I sure? I could have laughed; I hadn’t thought of Ashley or a pussy in weeks. My channel was stuck on an extended episode of dick, and Eric appeared to be the one with the remote in his hands.

All that pride warring against horniness until you can’t take it anymore. And that’s my favorite moment with you, Nate, when you can no longer resist, when that look of yours switches from struggle to surrender.”

I tried to ignore the stupid thrill of happiness I got out of him deciding to join me after all. “Decided maybe I should burn off last night,” he explained, falling in step beside me. “Pounding me like you were trying to launch me into orbit wasn’t enough?”

Formulas and theorems I could memorize. But Eric, he was a philosophy all his own, and there were no shortcuts to solving the riddle of him.

Trust Eric to always be prepared for some down-and-dirty debauchery. The Boy Scout of fucking on the fly.

Eric and I were trysts and tension and smack talk, but the idea that there was a whole other dimension to us that I’d caught only fractional glimpses of when we were together was surprisingly alluring.

My answer was that it felt just as fucking good. Maybe better now that there was an unfurling sense of possibility in me, this idea of togetherness not counted in just singular encounters, but in days and weeks and months to come.

Down onto my cock, then up to my mouth. Nice and easy. Filling and being filled.

“I guess only gay guys get the mad interior design skills?” I said, when I could. “Bi’s get, like, fifty-fifty odds and we both must’ve landed on the wrong side of them.”